


queen's gambit

by postfixrevolution



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Chess, Developing Friendships, Gen, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:22:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25389730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/postfixrevolution/pseuds/postfixrevolution
Summary: "I didn't expect it at first: a pretty Imperial princess with a stuffy vocabulary that only His Highness could match? Almost makes a guy want to go easy on you.""And are you?" Edelgard asks.Sylvain tries to think about it and — aside from this moment, across a miniature battlefield in a quiet corner of the library — he comes up short."For once," he admits, "I might not be."sylvain and edelgard play a game of chess. there's a lot to learn, be it about tactics, each other, or themselves.
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier & Edelgard von Hresvelg
Comments: 4
Kudos: 50





	queen's gambit

**Author's Note:**

> written for [sincerity](https://twitter.com/sylvainzine), a sylvain-centric charity zine
> 
> huge shoutout to my beta readers, [euphemea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/euphemea) and [fledermauss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fledermauss)! this fic wouldn't be half what it is without them <3

In the middling hours of the morning, shadows stretch tall, casting long silhouettes against the polished surface of the marble chess set. Sylvain sets the pieces methodically, watching the dance of reflected sunlight and shadow as he works. 

There's ample time before the monastery comes to life, students and soldiers bubbling out of their quarters like water from a spring. The board looks more impressive when Sylvain's got all the pieces set up, halfway into some staged game with an invisible opponent, so he runs scenarios through his head, envisioning what kind of flashy scenarios might tempt another starry-eyed maiden his way.

He's halfway through placing the white pieces when a shadow eclipses the sunlight streaming in, drawing auburn eyes up. The figure that stares back at him, hand on her hip and shoulders pulled so regally back, regards him curiously.

"And here I thought Hubert and I were the only ones who made use of the monastery's chess sets." Edelgard hums, gaze flickering across Sylvain's half-set board. "You're one of Dimitri's friends. I had no idea you played."

Sylvain pauses, sizing her up with an easy smile.

"I don't make a habit of it," he fibs, "but for _your_ lovely face, I could. Can I interest you in a game? It's not every day I get to sit across the board from nobility." 

"I'm well aware of the political environment in Faerghus," she says dismissively, cape fluttering as she sits. "I've no doubt that you face nobility quite often, especially if your invisible opponent bears the same title as you, future margrave." 

Sylvain isn't surprised by her words, but the reminder of his father still threatens to shadow his face with a scowl. 

"What's a margrave to a princess," he lilts, pulling his pieces back to their starting positions, "but a man vying for the attention of his future queen?" He spins the board on its stand once the game is set, offering Edelgard the first move. "After you, Your Highness."

"How chivalrous," Edelgard comments, an amused twist to her lips as her gaze falls down to the chessboard. The first move is important, rife with possibilities, and Sylvain can tell by her keen focus that his opponent is well aware of that. She'd mentioned earlier that she played with her retainer, and Sylvain has no doubt that a future emperor lacks anything in the realm of strategy. He's memorized his fair share of chess openings, and he's sure that Edelgard has, too.

When she moves her first piece, Sylvain responds immediately. 

It's a queen's gambit, played to the book as Sylvain advances his opposite pawn to face hers. She follows through by sliding her first queenside pawn forward in response, offering it to Sylvain's waiting piece. This early, the sacrifice would put her at a disadvantage, but taking control of the board's center would be easier, opening the way for a strong offensive. Edelgard is bold, unafraid to use the advantages she builds for herself, and he can see that resolve in the way she lifts her gaze after she moves, watching for his response. 

She stares as much at the board as she does at him, lilac eyes flitting contemplatively between the chess pieces and Sylvain. Her eyes are like spring itself, temperate and shaded in the same wispy violet as the flower fields Sylvain sees only in textbooks — the sprawling, sun-soaked settings of Adrestia and Almyra, drenched in a golden warmth that Sylvain can only imagine. In her eyes, there's the same promise that floats in on spring breezes, whispering of change and the flicker of life after a cruel winter. Sylvain accepts her gambit and decides he wants to chase it.

The game develops slowly, accented by Sylvain's idle chatter. He spends more time grinning at Edelgard than he does plotting his own moves. They're just enough to keep him dancing out of harm's way, just out of the immediate danger posed by Edelgard's own pieces: fianchettoed bishops and castled rooks, tucked neatly away behind looming lines of pawns. His defenses are up, but his moves are played with an airy, almost thoughtless simplicity. 

He moves a rook forward and hums to himself, perfunctory and perfectly within earshot of his opponent. "Not afraid to dive right in, huh?" He shoots her a lopsided smirk. "Go easy on me, will you? You're making it hard for me to make a good impression on a lovely lady like yourself."

"The game has hardly begun," Edelgard notes. "Surely you can't be giving up _this_ early. I've heard tell that you've quite the reputation for persistence." 

Sylvain represses a frown at the mention of his reputation as he folds his arms behind his head, leans back in his seat, and regards his opponent with a lazy glance. 

"I guess my reputation precedes me," he says, clipped into the shape of a careless laugh. "I'm not giving up just yet, but you'll have to excuse me if I make an even bigger fool of myself in the face of your distracting beauty."

Edelgard doesn't grace him with a response, instead reaching forward to pluck her bishop off the board and take Sylvain's rook in one elegant, fell swoop. There's a satisfied curl to her lips as she glances up, eyes bright past the curl of her lashes. 

"Check. I'd offer to excuse you for making such a fool of yourself, but this level of carelessness is almost astounding."

His grin falters as he looks down, blinking at the clean path between Edelgard's bishop and his king. Irritated, he notes the pleased curve of her grin, squinting at his own pieces before his gaze alights on a knight hidden behind the wall of his pawns. Just as skillfully as Edelgard had checked his king, Sylvain sweeps her bishop off the board, looking up just in time to see her blink, lips falling open with a soundless gasp. Maybe his reputation precedes him _too_ much, if Edelgard's surprise is any sort of tell. 

"And here I thought _I_ was careless." He's not immune to the small surge of victory when Edelgard's smile drops, squinting at the board as if it had personally offended her. "How about this: if I slip up again, I'll take you out to tea. My treat."

Edelgard regains her composure quickly, unshakable as she reassesses the board and her opponent. Sylvain grins as her eyes linger on his expression, leaning forward with his elbows against the smooth wooden tabletop. 

When her attention returns to their game, Edelgard hums contemplatively, drawing Sylvain's attention away from the trail of her gaze across the monochrome marble and toward the neat set of her lips, pursed in concentration. 

"Tell me, Sylvain," she begins, punctuated by the practiced flicker of her eyes upward, just enough to ensure he's ensnared. She's a lovely portrait of skillful court intrigue, and Sylvain almost feels a sense of familiarity in those machinations; he's learned more than his fair share of them himself. "You've wagered quite a few guesses about my preferred blend of tea, but what of yours? For someone so familiar with the drink, surely you have a favourite of your own."

She only spares him the occasional glance as they chat and continue to play, meeting his eye often enough to ensure his attention and offer part of hers. Sylvain isn't blind to her intent to distract him, watching as she sets up what seems like the perfect opportunity for Sylvain's knight to take an overextended rook. He studies the board just long enough to catch the quiet fianchetto of her last bishop, watching over her proffered piece in steady silence. It's a subtle trap, but Sylvain notices, a wry grin on his lips as his gaze lifts to meet hers.

"Not a bad trade. Does failing to accept count as a slip-up, or do I have to lose my knight for you to say yes to that tea date?"

If Edelgard is surprised by his attentiveness, she doesn't show it.

"Which one do _you_ think is the bigger slip-up?"

He hums, eyeing his knight. To him, sacrificing knights has never been a question: there's a clear tactical use to them, but there's a sentimentality too — the abject fearlessness of how a knight weaves through and over enemy lines is something Sylvain sees off the chessboard and on the battlefield, reflected in the dauntless strength of his friends. In the end, Sylvain advances a distant pawn instead. 

"I hadn't expected you to see my trap so easily," she admits, reining in her overextended rook. "You're sharper than you seem. Perhaps we ought to up the stakes. I'll accept your invitation to tea if you can claim victory in our little game."

Sylvain arches an eyebrow at her as he moves, and the show of interest pulls her lips into a smile.

"Putting a lot of faith in me, aren't you, Your Highness? I've got to say — you sure know how to flatter someone."

Her smile doesn't fade at the remark, but she does knock one of his pawns off of the board, setting it neatly aside. "I don't mean it as an empty compliment. I assure you, my interest is quite genuine."

The words aren't extraordinary, but the candor with which she says them is. Edelgard always speaks with an ineffable gravity, and her words now are no exception. It's almost exhilarating, to be so unconditionally _believed in_ , and Sylvain can't help the incredulous laugh that puffs past his tongue, lips pulling into a grin.

He thinks twice before moving his pieces from there on out, setting traps as Edelgard had set hers. Twinkling intrigue sparkles in Edelgard's eyes as he mirrors her previous maneuver, pushing his bishop forward in a ploy to tempt her closer to his well-built defenses. The game picks up quickly, leaving less time for idle banter, and Edelgard comes alive as his newfound seriousness pulls forth a ferocity of her own. 

Sylvain stays on the defensive throughout their exchange — it's hard not to when his opponent is relentless, her quick and clever motions putting immense pressure on Sylvain — and when she checks him again, it doesn't catch him by surprise.

He's halfway through taking the knight she had just sacrificed off the board when she pushes her queen forward, setting it in clear sight of Sylvain's king. It's not a complicated check to outmaneuver, but Edelgard meets his gaze as she slides her piece into place. The message is clear: just as Sylvain is serious, so is she.

With a breathy laugh, Sylvain moves his king to safety. "You don't pull any punches, do you? I didn't expect it at first: a pretty Imperial princess with a stuffy vocabulary that only His Highness could match? Almost makes a guy want to go easy on you."

"And are you?" she asks. The glint in her eyes is still playful, but there's a honed sharpness to it — a knife-like edge that presses gently at his back, urging him to sit up straighter. Edelgard looks at him with challenge bright in her eyes, and Sylvain tries to think about the last time someone took him so seriously, expected far more out of him than he's built a reputation for giving. 

He tries to think about it and — aside from this moment, across a miniature battlefield in a quiet corner of the library — he comes up short. 

"For once, I might not be." His words ring with a newfound honesty, surprising even himself. Normally, Sylvain doesn't mind losing, especially on his own terms, seeing the way a girl's eyes light up when they think they've got the drop on him, even if it's a result of his own orchestration. There's none of that satisfaction here. When Sylvain runs a hand through his hair and laughs, something a little harsher than he's used to clings to the edges of it, chipping past the porcelain edges of his mask as it stutters past. 

"Good," Edelgard hums, falling back into the rhythm of their game with a pleased smile. "You're clearly well aware of your own skill. I'd expect no less."

"What, no less than my best?" he snorts, pushing a pawn forward. "Right after I admitted that I wanted to go easy on you just because you're a princess? A flattering claim, but not the best attempt at character judgement I've seen."

Edelgard takes his pawn instead of replying, sets it aside with a knowing smirk. "Reputation and rumor beget lies and false impressions," she says, plainly as one would talk about the weather outside. "Just because I _know_ your reputation, Sylvain, doesn't mean I must _believe_ it."

Sylvain studies her before he makes his next move, searching her pleasant expression for a contradiction, something to cast doubt on the steadfast straightforwardness with which she speaks. He doesn't entirely know what to do with the lack of deceit that stares back at him, so he returns to the easy black and white of the chessboard. 

For every move he makes, Edelgard pushes back twice as hard, checking him at every opportunity. Sylvain can tell it's meant to intimidate, to corner him into a mistake that will let her claim victory, but for once, he doesn't want to prove his reputation right. Edelgard is no ordinary opponent — not only because of her status and skill, but because of the way she regards him, willfully blind to the image of himself that he's seen reflected in so many other's eyes. 

It's with this determination that Sylvain plunges headfirst into his next set of moves: a rook sacrifice, the aggressive advancement of his pawns, knights jumping over the line of Edelgard's troops to combat the queen she wields so single-mindedly. 

When their rapid back and forth comes to its next pause, Sylvain has Edelgard's queen pinned between his own queen and a check. The offer is clear: she'll lose her queen, but Sylvain's will be open to attack if he follows through. 

"A risky trade," she notes. Edelgard leaves her queen in dutiful protection of the king, advancing a long-forgotten pawn. "For such a defensive player, I'm quite surprised."

"I'm not the only one full of surprises." Sylvain slides his queen forward as he plucks Edelgard's off the board, eyeing her over the top of it with a sardonic smile. "You'd think a queen would be too good to risk, but you show no mercy, huh?"

Edelgard affords him a laugh, melodic and brief. "I don't hesitate to use the means available to me. Tell me, is there a reason why my aggression is so surprising to you?"

"I think we both know the answer to that. I'm beginning to think you know it even more than I do." Sylvain puts the captured queen down, looking past the chessboard to meet Edelgard's eye. "You and I are both victims of reputation — our own, someone else's. We're as much a product of our titles as we are of how other people choose to perceive us."

Edelgard hums thoughtfully, turns her gaze down to her pieces. 

"I disagree," she says, taking his queen just as he had taken hers. "We are only victims so long as we allow ourselves to be restricted by it. I, for one, will never allow such a thing. What defines me are my actions alone."

Sylvain frowns, studying the board in place of a response. He thinks he could corner her king with the last of his knights, lead her into a final checkmate at the price of a bishop. He thinks about it, but Edelgard interrupts him with a question, dragging his attention away from the world of their game and back to the world around them, blanketed by the slow crescendo of a waking monastery just outside the library doors.

"At the end of the day, words are nothing without the actions to back them. I have no intentions of living a lie," Edelgard intones. "Do you?"

Even now, the lilac of her eyes is bright, catching light like fresh oil on canvas. It occurs to him that there are a lot of things to envy about Edelgard, be it the rumored extravagance that follows royalty, or the truth: that her beliefs and her actions will always align. That she may not be afforded the ability to be forthright in the unending game of court politics, but she fights for it all the same. 

If anything, Sylvain could use a little bit of that sincerity, too.

He looks away to follow through on his plan instead of replying, but he can feel Edelgard's gaze on him instead of on the board. Hazel eyes do not look up until he pushes her into a checkmate, flickering up just in time to see the gentle shock at her loss twist its way into a delighted smirk. There's no need to announce his victory — they're both already aware.

Instead, Sylvain stands, offering a hand above the aftermath of their game. Edelgard rises to mirror him, giving his hand a firm shake. 

"I know we agreed that if I won, we'd go on a tea date, but I think I'll pass, if Your Highness would be so kind. It was a good game though. Thank you."

"I believe _I_ ought to be the one thanking you, seeing as I was the first to intrude." She begins resetting the board, and Sylvain is quick to join her. "It _is_ quite a shame though," Edelgard adds. "I wouldn't have minded the tea. Perhaps you'll consider accepting _my_ invitation?"

The request catches him off guard, and Sylvain knocks over a knight as he whips his head up, latching onto the playful twinkle of her eyes. 

" _Your_ invitation? Hey, hold on — usually I'm the one that does the inviting."

Edelgard doesn't bite back her laugh this time, letting it bubble cheerfully into the space between them. "I prefer bergamot," she tells him, lips curled into a smirk, "and, if I may be so bold, another permanent chess partner. There's never a lack of space in the Black Eagles for those who hold talent."

Sylvain exhales an incredulous laugh at her offer. "Flattering me again, Your Highness?"

"You know I would do no such thing."

"I do. You're far too forthright for that. And tea sounds good," he acquiesces, shaking his head at the grin that he can't quite bite back. "Although, I can't answer you right away about your second request. There's still a lot for me to consider in my own class. Things I can't leave behind."

Edelgard picks up his fallen knight, peering at him over the top of it before she sets it into place. He doesn't imagine that his was the answer she wanted, but the understanding in her eyes is clear.

"Tea it is."

**Author's Note:**

> come find me (or talk to me about chess!) on [twitter](https://twitter.com/panntherism)


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